


Assisted Selfishness (and Why it's Hard to be the Oldest)

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Absolutely fucking disgustingly fluffy, Canon Compliant, Dental Insurance Not Included, Explicit Consent, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff with Smut Involved, Fluffy Smut, I have absolutely no justification for this other than that it had to be done someday, I have defiled this pairing with my filthy sinner hands, Like they're fricking and that much is obvious but there are no actual genitals depicted, Ongoing and Enthusiastic Consent, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-Canon, Safewords, Sexually Implicit, Smut, Smut with Fluff Involved, They're smiling and laughing and teasing each other during sex what more do you want, This isn't even particularly explicit smut it just felt too dirty for these two, Vanilla, hand-holding, mama didn't raise me this way, so sweet you'll get cavities, some body worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the Shepherds' campaign, Emmeryn has a little help in pretending the fate of the country doesn't lie on her shoulders (even if it very much does), because Ylisse is a heavy weight to bear even on shoulders that grew beneath it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assisted Selfishness (and Why it's Hard to be the Oldest)

**Author's Note:**

> Why Ryan Shouldn't Write Porn: Yet another attempt at being smutty from someone who has no business trying to at all, this time with overwritten language more flowery than a botantical garden, sweeter than a pastry shop, and fluffier than kittens playing with cotton balls.

"This isn't wise, not here. Not now."  
  
"You're right."  
  
Emmeryn had spoken first, the fingers of one hand still slipped through another, darker hand that rested on her waist, voice a breathless gasp in the quiet air of the bedroom. Through the thick doors, she could vaguely hear the sounds of the aftermath of a battle between her brother's not-quite-an-army and a band of assassins that wanted nothing more than every Ylisse-allied life in the castle, but Emmeryn's especially. It was times like this Emmeryn was thankful for her tendency to burn the midnight oil— had she been asleep, as she was supposed to be by this time of night, there was no telling if she'd have lived to see the end of it.   
  
There were papers scattered across her cluttered desk— a desk that had been a vanity table at first, but Emmeryn rarely used it as such. At one point the room had mostly been filled with very little aside from ornamental decorations and such, but with Emmeryn's rule, those had been put away. In their place, save for the shield with the House Ylisse coat of arms over the fireplace, were cases of books on law and history and the arts and sciences. She'd had several bookshelves moved in, including a shelf of storybooks she'd kept for her younger siblings, and herself in the past, though they were all a bit old for them by now. There was a map on another table generally used for tea, but not of a battlefield, and several charts and diagrams all in Emmeryn's tiny, perfect handwriting one could easily see on legal documents. A new box of stationary had been opened, the beginning sentences of a letter to someone-or-other on a blank piece, ink bottle uncorked. She hadn't gotten very far before being interrupted.  
  
Not that Emmeryn minded the occasional interruption, of course. A pair of soft lips on the back of her neck, calloused hands resting on her waist, a soft and familiar voice telling her it was late and she should head to bed— that was a normal and welcomed part of her late-night bursts of productivity. Only this particular "interrupiton," as it was, hadn't gotten far before the assassins were located in the castle and all hell broke loose, and all Emmeryn could do was stay in her roon with Phila pacing in front of the windows and wait until it was safe. She hated not being able to do anything, but it'd been ages since her training days, and it was unlikely she'd be particularly useful.  
  
And now it was safe, the threat gone, but Emmeryn had not left the room. As such, neither had her bodyguard— though 'bodyguard' was no longer the right word.  
  
"Gods, it's late," Emmeryn mumbled, but she made no move to pull away. Phila had Emmeryn pulled tight to her chest and her lips on Emmeryn's neck, arms wrapped around her as if something were going to try and take her again, oddly quiet. Emm wanted to ask what was wrong, but something told her that wouldn't cover it.  
  
Emm felt Phila's chest shift as she let out a long breath, her arms hugging just a bit tighter. There had been a time when Phila was the short one of their relationship, before the physical strain of knight training had really made her grow. A steady diet of the Pegasus Knights' training regiment, three bland-but-very-nutritious meals a day, and lots of sunshine had made her grow more than Emmeryn, constantly sheltered away inside the castle for the sake of her own health, had been able to. Emm had always been tall and pale and slender for her age, always prone to getting sicker faster than anybody else. By contrast, Phila was as healthy as the horses she spent most of her time around, and it showed.  
  
"I could've lost you tonight," Phila finally whispered. Her voice reminded Emmeryn of the wind— a kind yet lively spring breeze that mussed Emm's hair when she watched Phila soar gracefully down from the clouds on a battle-bred pegasus in gleaming silver armor, landing three yards from where Emmeryn stood and giving her a big, undignified grin that made her wind-chapped cheeks dimple in a way that made Emm want to throw restraint to the wind and kiss her, right then and there.  
  
"You could lose me any night this sort of thing happens," Emmeryn murmured back. "At this point, another assassination attempt is nothing."  
  
"It is nothing, and that's what worries me," Phila hummed. "Ylisse has been at peace for ten years, and we've barely had any issues since then. And now, all of a sudden, people want your head on a platter every three weeks? I have a feeling that they're organized."  
  
"You worry too much," Emm chided. "It can't be Plegia, you know that. I've met King Gangrel in person, and I really don't think he means much harm."  
  
Emm swore she could feel Phila roll her eyes. "Right, and the rotting cat skull he sent you for your twentieth birthday was just part of a Plegian tradition."  
  
"He said it was a jape," Emm insisted. "And even if it was an antagonizing gesture, I'm not so cynical as to assume the worst. If he truly does mean harm, I'll organize another meeting and we can talk things out."  
  
"You're too forgiving sometimes," Phila sighed. "Don't you ever worry that one day, something is going to take advantage of your kindness and put you or your family in danger?"  
  
"The day I regret being kind is the day all nine hells freeze over," Emmeryn said stubbornly. "Better to have died in peace than in anger."  
  
"You sound like your mother," Phila mumbled. Emmeryn knew not to ask about that, at this point. Although Phila was only older than her by two years, Phila had met the previous Queen Consort not long before her death, when Phila was about eleven. It'd only been once, but she remembered a warm smile Emmeryn had inherited, and kind brown eyes. Emmeryn knew well that it wasn't just for show.  
  
Emmeryn pulled away and turned, resting her hands on Phila's rosy cheeks. She thought about saying something, but didn't, and pecked her lips gently. "I love you, you know."  
  
"You never let me forget," Phila teased, pulling her into a hug. "Are you sure you're not tired, your Grace?"  
  
"After all of that? Far from it," Emmeryn chuckled. "Though it isn't as if I were going to get any work done, anyway."  
  
"You and your work," Phila sighed. "You could get away with staying up late before we were married, but I have to marvel at how you manage to burn the midnight oil when we share a bed."  
  
Emm grinned sheepishly. "I've had practice. But I really do have things to take care of— I'll never be able to actually enjoy the time I spend with you if I know I'm shirking my responsibilities."  
  
"I'd hardly call it shirking," Phila protested. "If you're asleep, or at least resting somehow. Come on to bed, sundrop."  
  
At the nickname, Emmeryn gave her a teasing glance. Phila only ever called her sundrop in particularly sweet moments, and usually only when the sun was out— that was the joke, Phila had explained, long ago when the nickname was new and they were youngsters trying to keep their less-than-conventional relationship a secret. It was either sundrop or Emm in private (never Emmeryn), and outside their doors it was rarely anything but her title. She'd tried 'my lady' before, but it just wasn't the same. Perhaps it was already taken.  
  
Phila had leaned forwards, peppering her neck with kisses, arms wrapped snugly around Emm's waist and effectively keeping her in a warm embrace that nonetheless did not let her wriggle away to her vanity-turned-writing-desk.  
  
"Phila, that isn't fair," Emm mumbled. "I have to finish these letters soon. You know Ferox is expecting formal correspondance soon."  
  
"I'm sure the Khans won't mind if it's a little late," Phila replied, her lips on Emmeryn's pale neck. "No one will tell you you're wrong for trying to get some rest, you know. If they do, they answer to me."  
  
"I'm touched and all, Phila," Emm sighed. "I really am. But my letters…"  
  
"Can wait until morning," Phila murmured, a hand tracing its way up her back and pressing through the soft fabric of her nightgown, calloused fingertips threading themselves delicately through her fine locks of hair. "It won't kill you to be a little selfish, just this once."  
  
She wasn't technically wrong. Selfishness, although high on her list of morally-reprehensible-but-not-quite-unforgivable qualities, would not actually kill her if she indulged in it for what was more than likely the third time in her twenty-one years of life. But being responsible for the happiness and vitality of an entire Halidom for, at this point, half of one's life shoved the possibility of selfishness off the table entirely.   
  
Emmeryn sighed, allowing herself to tuck her head under Phila's chin. "Oh, fine. I won't be able to sleep, I hope you know that."  
  
"Good thing I won't until you will," Phila said impishly, pecking her head with a little kiss before moving an arm behind Emmeryn's knees and effortlessly scooping her up in one swift motion, barely giving Emm any time to react.  
  
"Phila, you don't need to—" she protested, as Phila carried her over to the bed and set her down in it. "I'm not a child anymore, you know."  
  
"I know," Phila shrugged, sitting down next to her. "But it's good to know that I can still pick you up like I used to."  
  
"As if you needed to test that at all," Emm retorted. "Look at us. I'd blow over in a stiff wind and you may as well be rooted to the ground. Of course you can pick me up."  
  
"That's fair," Phila admitted. "Still, it's good to see that some things haven't changed."  
  
Emmeryn gave her a wry glance, leaning back against the padded headboard. There had been a time where the antique bed in the Exalt's chambers had felt far too big and far too lonely— the Council had made her leave the nursery when she turned eleven, and Emmeryn had wondered what posessed them to think she'd go along with that at all. Who in their right mind made a girl sleep in the bedroom that'd once belonged to her dead parents? Out of spite, she'd slept in the armchair instead, until she'd grown out of it and had to admit defeat for perhaps the first time in her life.  
  
Phila played with her hair idly, shadows on her face flickering in the candlelight. The pale silver of her hair reflected the firelight nearly as brightly as her armor would have, and the wispy strands escaped from her braid ringed her face as if highlighting the contour of her cheek in a halo of light. When they'd met, she'd had it cut short, in a messy, overgrown diagonal line from her chin to the back of her head that tangled too easily and never stayed combed for very long. Phila hadn't really wanted to grow it out at all, and would've sooner shorn it all off, but it was traditional for Pegasus Knights to wear their hair long, so she'd compromised and pinned it up.  
  
The light in the room was low, but Emmeryn could see the barest shadows over shadows where lines in Phila's face stood out, betraying the furrow in her brow and the downward curl of her lip. The lines melted when Emmeryn reached up and touched her cheek, but Emm knew firsthand that one's face being composed did not necessarily mean one was at ease.  
  
"You seem tired," she began, trying to tease out what Phila's worries were without explicitly asking. Her fingers moved to tug loose strands of hair from Phila's braid, half-undone and hanging in fine, transluscent waves that seemed to defy gravity. Looking at her brought a faint smile to Emmeryn's face— there was an angel in front of her, woven from wheat grass and summer breeze and strong pilot feathers, and she was all Emmeryn's to kiss and tease and fret over and love for the rest of their lives.  
  
Phila let out a breathy chuckle. "It's been a long day. This peacetime has me unused to jumping out of bed and grabbing a lance in the middle of the night. I've lost my edge."  
  
"You know you're technically royalty now," Emmeryn reminded her. "Nobody will blame you for that." She also didn't blame Phila for sticking to her knight training— as Captain of the Guard (an important enough title to verbally capitalize; Emmeryn was aware of the minute differences such a choice made) by trade and a knight since she could heft a stick over her head, Phila's automatic reaction to being suddenly awakened was to snap to attention and grab the nearest weapon, prepared to throw her life down for her country without a second thought. One didn't forget that in the three years they'd had to internalize a new status and title.  
  
"Still," Phila insisted. "Once a knight, always a knight. It's always been my job to keep you safe, and especially now. I don't want to lose you." Not when you're so close to me. Emmeryn knew Phila well enough to pull the words from her lips without them needing to be said.  
  
Emm brushed a flyaway strand of silver from Phila's face, bared to her in the candlelight. Her eyes glistened, orange firelight reflecting off of the impossibly-crimson eyes Emmeryn could watch for ages, just because of how abysmally awful Phila was at hiding her emotions. Emmeryn could look at her and see an ocean of thoughts shimmering there all at once. Maybe it was because of how close they were, or maybe it really was just because Phila was a truly bad liar, down to her core.  
  
"You won't lose me," Emmeryn promised. "I'm staying right here, with you. Right where I belong."  
  
She leaned over and kissed Phila's cheek, her pale lips pressed to Phila's battle-toughened skin. She felt Phila pull her closer, hugging her just as tightly as she had been fifteen minutes previous, only now there was an element of urgency in it, as if Phila really were afraid that any minute could pull them apart. It was a rational fear, but letting it rule her actions wasn't healthy.  
  
Emm pressed a kiss to her head. "I love you, Phila. More than anything in the world."  
  
"More than strawberry parfait?" Phila teased, chuckling impishly. Emmeryn rolled her eyes.  
  
"Let's not bring desserts into this, shall we?" she teased right back. "But say we do. Then I love you more than all the best strawberry parfait in the world, with chocolate and powdered sugar. And even if you offered me that strawberry parfait every day for the rest of my life, I would rather give it up entirely than live my life without you by my side."  
  
Phila laughed, her lips sending vibrations across Emmeryn's neck that tickled in the most pleasant of ways. Her laugh felt like wind chimes that warmed Emm to her core, clanging together from the edge of a porch roof without a care in the world. Emmeryn could listen to that all day.  
  
"I love you, too," Phila murmured, kissing just beneath her ear. "More than apple pie with ice cream. In fact, I bet if you took the best strawberry parfait in the world, with chocolate and powdered sugar, and put it with the best apple pie and ice cream in the world, I still wouldn't love it as much as I love you."  
  
Emmeryn let out a giggle, her fingers tangled in Phila's hair. "You're so sweet, Phila— pun not intended."  
  
"Now that's a clever one," Phila admitted, pressing kisses to Emm's collarbone, just above the neckline of her nightgown.  
 "Well, so am I," Emmeryn shrugged. "What are you doing down there, hm?"  
  
Phila glanced up, grinning from ear to ear. "I thought that if I got closer to your heart, you might understand better how much I love you."  
  
For absolutely no reason, Emmeryn felt a silly little grin flutter its way across her face. There was no word for Phila right then except cute— foolishly, ridiculously cute, in the same way she would've been if she were thirteen years old and offering Emmeryn half the bag of peppermint sticks she'd just bought in town. No word but a sugar-sweet cute that sent pleasant fuzziness radiating through her core.  
  
Emm arched an eyebrow. After all, they weren't exactly kids anymore. "Are you sure that's all there is?"  
  
"Well, it has the added bonus of my face being close to more of you," Phila said pragmatically, purposefully kissing her sternum and setting her thick-fingered hands on her waist. "Which, I have to say, I like quite a lot."  
  
"And if I granted you permission to do more, what would you do?" Emmeryn proposed, playing with Phila's hair. "Certainly you wouldn't stop now."  
  
"Well, if you granted permission," Phila agreed. "I don't see why I'd stop if you wanted me to keep going. That'd be rude, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Very much so," Emm nodded. "But you wouldn't do that."  
  
"I think you know me better than that by now," Phila teased, her lips moving up and lingering at the hollow of her throat in a way that made Emmeryn's breath hitch.  
  
Emmeryn let out a breathy chuckle. "What should the word for tonight be, then?"  
  
Phila took a pause for thought. "Candle," she decided. "Does that sound alright?"  
  
"If it does to you," Emm replied. "I'll remember it." Though when this happened it was usually Phila who used the word first, rather than Emmeryn— which was a little ironic, since Phila had first proposed the use of such words when their marriage was new, as Phila knew more about these things than Emmeryn did and would have literally never forgiven herself if she'd accidentally pushed too far. Even now that they'd gained an intimate knowledge of one another in these matters, it was still a comfort to have that communication in place.  
  
She felt Phila's lips press down on her skin with a little more insistence, a little more of the raw feeling Emm had learned to associate with the way Phila did things. Phila often left little violet reminders of this sprinkled across Emmeryn's skin after these sorts of nights, flushed and scattered from her chest to her neck to just under her ears like galaxies painted over soft, pale skin. Emmeryn could never find it in herself to mind, even if she could feel others glancing at the ones that happened to peek out over her collar.  
  
Emmeryn's hands had found Phila's shirt, her fingers toying with one of the three buttons keeping it on while the other wandered down to the wide, dangling hem, bunching up the fabric in her hand in a wordless request for permission to take it off. When Phila granted it, her loose hair tickling Emm's neck as she nodded, her nimble fingers wasted no time pushing the buttons back through the holes one after another.  
  
Phila pulled back from her neck, allowing Emmeryn to sit up on her knees on the bed and slip her hands beneath the hem. It was her turn to kiss Phila's neck, her breath warm and then cold all at once as it condensed on her skin. Phila pulled one arm out of her shirt, then the other, and then Emmeryn had to break away for the second it took her to pull the shirt over Phila's head. She shook a strand of unruly silver off her face, and gave a breathless grin, running her fingers through Emm's hair.  
  
Emmeryn didn't wait. Their lips met, sending them both back onto the rumpled bedsheets. Phila's arms wrapped around Emm's torso, one strong hand pressed between her shoulderblades and the other clutching her hip; Emmeryn's went over Phila's shoulders and allowed slender fingers to tangle themselves in a silver braid that was all but gone in the action. Her tongue ran itself along Phila's rows of teeth, just a little crooked and just a little chipped from falling off her horse. She tasted Phila's tongue, its flavor hot and indistinguishable from her own. She tasted the vibrations that came when Phila made a sound halfway between a hum and a moan into the kiss— or maybe Emm had made it. It would've taken focus that Emm didn't have to care about who it was.  
  
They broke apart for a moment, a short moment where Phila's lips were a tantalizing inch from her own and her mouth was filled with cold air, a string of hot saliva bridging the empty, unbearably far and frustratingly close space between them. Phila's thumb brushed the droplets from Emm's lip in one delicate motion, her touch at once hot and cold, and traced her cheek with a softness that did not match the sweat beading on her skin or her breathing, uneven with exertion.  
  
Phila pressed her lips to the corner of Emmeryn's mouth. "I love you," she murmured, a short but strong kiss between each word. "So very much."  
  
Emm pulled her into another open-mouthed kiss, deep and filled with the low, crimson flame of desire that burned warm and hypnotizing in moments like these. Their breaths synched up, whispers and hums and low moans of love and want and need matching in vibration that reverberated through Emmeryn's very bones. The pads of her thumbs ran themselves over Phila's cheekbones, soft palms cupping heated cheeks as if willing them closer, close enough that the lines dividing their forms felt blurred— as if, if they got closer, they could meld together and never have to separate.  
  
The kiss broke again. "I love you, too," Emmeryn whispered, letting cool air fill her lungs. One of Phila's hands had moved up to her shoulder, slid under one of the loose straps holding her nightgown in place. Phila's hand felt hot on her skin, otherwise exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. They seemed to share the sentiment that it was time for the gown to go.  
  
She sat back up, letting Phila push the straps off her shoulders and down her arms. Phila took her time, allowing her hands to savor the feeling of every inch of skin, soft as satin and delicate as lace beneath her battle-toughened palms. When the gown landed in folds around Emm's hips, Phila pulled back and took a look at her, a gentle hand stroking itself along her cheek.  
  
"Gods, you're beautiful," she murmured, and the amount of sincerity and love stitched through the words made Emm's cheeks flush as if it were the first time she'd heard it. Phila took a second to drink in every detail; every tangle in her tousled hair, every logic-defying freckle, every pale vein showing through her skin, every little white, zigzagging streak on her breasts and across her hips. Every shade of the flush on her cheeks, every sparkle of love glittering in her blue eyes, every way the loose, inelegant grin on her face made her flushed lips curl. Every living, imperfect inch of her had compiled itself into someone Phila felt blessed every single day to know.  
  
Emmeryn gave a breathy chuckle. "You say that every time you see me," she teased.   
  
Phila broke her trance to laugh. "I'm making sure I don't forget," she replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "If I say it enough, maybe I'll get close to expressing just how beautiful you really are. Saying it once isn't enough."  
  
"You pulled that line from a novella," Emmeryn accused playfully, scooting close enough to peck Phila's nose. "Let me guess. 'How to Win a Lady's Heart in a Fortnight'?"  
  
"I can neither confirm nor deny this," Phila admitted, giving her a teasing grin. "But Emm, I can't rely on my natural charm forever. Sooner or later, I'd need to improve my technique. Otherwise you'd get bored of me, and we can't have that."  
  
"Of course, of course," Emm drawled, resting her hands on Phila's wide, tanned shoulders. "Whoever says that marriage means the end of romance?"  
  
"Only someone very unhappy with their love life would say that," Phila remarked, starting to scoot around to Emm's other side. "And I, for one, don't—"  
  
She didn't get the chance to finish. As a consequence of trying to make love on an unmade bed, Phila's knee missed the mattress and took a dive towards the floor, dragging Phila off the bed in an almost comical display of the effects of gravity. Emmeryn winced at the loud thud that came an instant later, leaning over the side of the bed.  
  
She seemed unhurt, so Emmeryn had to bring a hand to her mouth, trying hard not to smile. "How elegant. I can't say I've ever seen anyone fall so gracefully."  
  
Phila chuckled abashedly. "Why, sundrop," she remarked, in that tone of voice she used that told Emmeryn in a very short instant that something simultaneously witty and exasperating was about to pass her lips next.  
  
"Don't you dare say it," Emm interjected, to no avail.  
  
"It appears," Phila remarked, a silly grin spreading across her face. "That I've fallen for you!"  
  
Emmeryn took a second to bury her face in her hands. Then she took a breath, fighting the grin threatening to break onto her lips by holding them together tightly. "That's it. I want a divorce."  
  
Phila broke into laughter that made Emmeryn shake her head, grinning despite herself. "But Emm," Phila protested. "How will I go on? I can no longer stand life without you!"  
  
"Good gods, stop," Emm laughed. By this point, it was far from unusual that Phila start spinning puns one after another if an opportunity presented itself. Why did Emmeryn love this idiot so much?  
  
"How can I drop everything right here?" Phila continued. "Without you, the collapse of my romantic life is nigh!"  
  
"You are ridiculous," Emm decided, failing at keeping her laughter in check. "I can't believe I love you."  
  
"There's that lovely smile," Phila teased, sitting up and grinning at Emm from her position on the carpet. "There's no point in denying it, sundrop. You've grown to love my jokes."  
  
"If you can call them that," Emm said wryly, sitting on the edge of the bed and toying with Phila's hair. "Somehow, I don't think puns count."  
  
"They ought to," Phila insisted, resting her elbows on the bed. "Don't you think?"  
  
Emmeryn rolled her eyes, smiling fondly nonetheless. "Just come back up here, you silly little bird."  
  
"Are you sure?" Phila teased, arching an eyebrow and setting her hand on Emm's knee. "I can do quite a lot from the floor."  
  
"Nothing you can't do up here," Emm retorted. "Could we pretend, just for a minute, that there's no superiority or anything like that in play?"  
  
The line had perhaps been delivered with a bit less of the affectionate teasing Phila was used to hearing than Emmeryn had intended. But for some reason, she couldn't stand the idea of anyone on their knees for her. Especially not Phila, who had been her closest friend and confidante for ages. Frederick's insistence on it (For propriety's sake, he claimed) was enough, and it'd taken her years to make them stop. For it to happen now, of all times, and with Phila, of all people, was a frustrating experience— and not the good kind, either.  
  
Phila paused, listening for the safeword that didn't come, and then stood, squeezing Emm's knee gently. "You're right. As usual, I might add." She gave Emm a teasing smile at that, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose, and Emm smiled gratefully.  
  
"You think you're so funny, don't you?" Emm chuckled, pulling Phila back onto the unmade bed. "But yes, I usually am right, and I'm very glad you know this."  
  
"If I hadn't learned by now that you're usually right," Phila said matter-of-factly, pressing a smacking kiss to Emm's lips in a way that should not have been frustratingly attractive, "I would've learned nothing in all our years of friendship."  
  
"You're very wise, Phila," Emmeryn remarked, lacing her fingers behind Phila's neck.  
  
Phila was going to say something witty, but settled for second-best. "Well, I _am_ older than you."  
  
Emmeryn kissed her. Phila's hands came to rest on her hips, one holding her steady above the crumpled fabric of her gown and the other rising from beneath it, starting at the top of her leg and moving to caress the form of her hip itself, work-tough palms touching fragile skin as soft as a whisper in the dead of night, as loving as Phila's tender kisses waking her up in the morning. It took a special kind of person to be able to kiss someone with their hands, and yet Phila had it down to an art form. Perhaps that was part of what drew Emmeryn to her in the first place— that someone could be so full of love for the life she led that it couldn't help but spill out of her in words too passionately delivered to be merely that of a knight, in actions that had to be restrained from constantly being done to their fullest. Every micron that Phila's fingertips ran over Emmeryn's skin, she felt a deep, visceral sense that she was loved, loved wholly enough that she didn't have to present herself as a perfect yet unattainable figurehead of goodness and purity. To Emmeryn, that was more valuable than any of the infinite riches an Exalt could ever dream of.  
  
As Phila's hands moved, coherent thought gave way to waves of feeling— a shifting tide of energy and passion, driving her movements towards a shore where words didn't matter and the world consisted of where skin met skin, where tongue met tongue. Moisture gathered along her hairline and in the crevasse of her very core, dripping hot from where their mouths met and broke apart, taking inelegant gulps of breath every now and again, and running cold down her chin and to her neck. She hooked her leg over Phila's waist, taking a gasp of breath and diving in again.  
  
Phila tasted sweet beneath her lips, and Emmeryn savored her taste the same way she allowed her slender hands, ideal for signing legal documents and shaking hands with diplomats and flipping through the pages of magic tomes, brush Phila's skin. The muscles of her back flowed river-like beneath taut, battle-scarred skin tanned in sunlight, broad and strong and salubrious in a way Emmeryn had never known. Phila's back arched over her on the bed as if, even now, Phila were trying to shield her from anything that may try to harm her, and Emmeryn allowed herself to press herself upwards and sink into Phila's stocky form. Phila was not much taller, but she was far broader than Emm knew she'd ever be, and it gave her a bit of satisfaction to think about the fact that every freckled, toughened inch of Phila's build was hers to explore and sink into, should she say the word.  
  
Whether the rolling of their movements matched the shifting of the waves, Emmeryn couldn't say; In the moment that nothing mattered but them and their hands and tongues and sweat-moistened skin, Emm cared little for the details of the real world. She didn't care if she were an Exalt, nor if Phila were her bodyguard— in the moments her pleasure reached its zenith, surging forwards onto distant shores, she barely cared for what her name was. Riding the crests of passion, it was these moments that banished all doubt or stress of any kind from her busy head. Emmeryn was sure by now that she'd have gone insane without this form of relief, ephemeral as its nature was.  
  
She wasn't sure when her eyes closed, but when they opened again, what faced her bliss-hazed eyes was more of a blessing than the receeding tides of pleasure given to her by a set of strong hands that rested one on the gentle outward curve of her stomach and the other tenderly grasping her own, slender fingers laced with strong. Phila's own were half-lidded behind thick lashes, a sliver of ruby-red barely visible in the dim candlelight. Emmeryn was barely aware of the shift when Phila moved to kiss her lips, lingering and tender in the waning atmosphere.  
  
"Hey," she murmured, a voice like honey to Emm's ears. "Are you alright, sundrop?"  
  
Emm nodded, and kissed her again. "I'm fine. And you?"   
  
"Never better," Phila said with a little grin, threading her fingers through Emm's pale locks of hair. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too," Emm whispered, smiling a bit more than she had been. "I'm sleepy."  
  
Phila chuckled, kissing her forehead. "I told you, I wouldn't sleep until you did."  
  
"Don't look so cheeky," Emm pouted, though she didn't mean it. Phila pulled her close, fingers ghosting along the back of her neck and curve of her spine, and in a rose-colored haze of receeding pleasure, Emmeryn allowed herself to forget her title and sink into a blissful, dreamy sleep.  
  
Emmeryn was made aware of morning when a dull sense of soreness made itself known between her legs, and when she felt Phila's arms around her shift, just a little. Sunlight poured through the pane glass of the windows and landed in yellow rectangles across the Exalt's chambers, casting light over her books and papers where else there was shade. Their candle, flame long since burned out, sat in a stump in the dish filled with its own melted and hardened wax. Emm reminded herself that she needed to get a new one, and get the dish cleaned.  
  
She pressed a kiss to Phila's forehead, making Phila's eyes flutter open groggily, and soften when she saw Emm there. "Hey."  
  
"Hay is for horses," Emmeryn teased. "But I'll forgive you."  
  
"That's no way to talk to someone the morning after you made love to them all night," Phila teased right back, pressing a kiss to her nose to show she wasn't serious. "Are you sore?"  
  
"Just a bit," Emmeryn admitted. Phila was very skilled with her hands and could probably pleasure any woman she chose with little effort, but the amount of motion involved in their intimate life usually meant that Emmeryn's muscles protested the next morning. As if to prove a point, she shifted herself to sit up, and winced when bolts of soreness shot through her core.  
  
Phila nestled her hands on Emm's middle, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck and holding her from behind. "You should spend a bit more time resting," Phila murmured. "Everyone had a late night. No one will blame you if you have a lie-in. You did nearly get assassinated."  
  
"Still, I have things I need to do," Emm protested. "Lissa's going to be concerned if I don't tell her good morning, and I need to catch Chrom before he goes to train. He's so focused on it now, you know, since he's started that militia, and as proud as I am of him that he's trying to improve the country, I don't want him to think I've distanced myself from him."  
  
"Alright, mother hen," Phila chuckled. "I won't keep you long."  
  
"I'm not a mother hen, I'm just their older sister," Emmeryn tried to say.  
  
"Except that you absolutely are," Phila insisted. "Trying to say you're just their older sister is like me trying to say I'm just your bodyguard. I stopped being _just_ your bodyguard years ago, just like you stopped being _just_ an older sister to Chrom and Lissa long before then."  
  
Emmeryn supposed she wasn't wrong. There were times she felt more like a mother to her siblings than their own mother had, with good reason. Chrom had only been four when Queen Consort Florence died in childbirth, and being young and closer to his father, barely remembered her at this point. But Emmeryn was ten at the time and had never quite seen eye-to-eye with Exalt Lionel, so she had vivid memories of them both. She supposed it was all she could to to fill the role their mother had left, considering an army of nursemaids could only do so much. Balancing the two roles of eldest and Exalt could be difficult at times, but Emm hadn't had much choice in the matter. She couldn't very well neglect her job, and the only way she'd neglect her siblings was over her dead body.  
  
"Alright, alright," Emmeryn caved. "Maybe I _am_ a bit of a mother hen."  
  
"I told you," Phila teased, kissing her cheek. "We don't even need children of our own when we have your siblings."  
  
Emm paused. "But we won't, not always."  
  
That was a serious statement for what had previously been a playful line of conversation. "What do you mean by that, Emm?"  
  
"I mean, I won't always have to be their older sister, or mother hen," Emm clarified. "I could do it ten years ago, when they were little, but now? Now Chrom is all set to grow up and become a general, and Lissa's stuck enough to him that she'll surely go with him as a medic. She's been reminding me that eleven is nearly grown-up."  
  
"Lissa's still only ten," Phila reminded her, combing her fingers through her hair. "I don't think Frederick will let her join the Shepherds until she's Chrom's age. You know Freddy."  
  
"Don't tell Lissa that," Emm chuckled halfheartedly. "Still. It's close enough to her birthday that she's calling herself eleven. No matter how protective Frederick is, and no matter how much it scares me, I know I can't… I know I can't stop them from growing up."  
  
Phila was quiet for a minute, letting the words sink in. Growing up with a twin (who was older by fourteen minutes, though it wasn't like Phila would ever admit it) meant she didn't know what it was like to have younger siblings— much less siblings that much younger than her. Phila knew better than anyone that Emmeryn thought of her brother and sister she would her own children sometimes, often without even realizing it. Perhaps Phila was older, but she'd decided Emmeryn was far wiser than she could ever be.  
  
"Lissa reminds me of you very much," Phila remarked, a subtle change in subject. "Louder, certainly. But she has a big heart, just like you."  
  
Emm considered this. "I think she cries less than I did, at that age," she decided. "And she's far healthier than I was. I'm grateful for that." Though it wasn't hard to be healthier than Emmeryn had been when she was young. Had Emm not been as stubborn as a mule that she'd be next after their father died, the role of Exalt would've gone to Chrom. For a sickly young girl, Emmeryn could certainly argue. (It was one of the few things she was glad to have gotten from her father.)  
  
"She'll be a wonderful healer someday," Phila commented. "And Chrom's growing into a fine young man. Next time we spar, I wouldn't be surprised if he disarms me." They were innocent statements, but served to remind Emmeryn yet again that her siblings were growing up— even if it was quicker than she would've liked.  
  
She sighed. "It just scares me, Phila," she murmured, tucking her head under Phila's chin. "The world is full of dangers and suffering and truly, truly awful people. Mother told me to look out for them, but how can I do that if they're in such a hurry to leave me behind?"  
  
"I don't think that's how they see it," Phila said thoughtfully. "Certainly it's not how I thought of my parents, when I left to become a knight."  
 "How do they see it, then?" Emmeryn asked. This was one area she could never understand.  
  
Phila shrugged, trying to phrase it right, and thinking of how she'd say it to her parents, who were just about as unexceptional as they came, so it wasn't that difficult. They were from a noble house out on the Eastern side of Ylisse, though her father had once been one of Ylisstol's ballisticians towards the end of the Plegian War. She sent part of her wages back home with her letters, and always recieved several pages from her mother on what had happened between her last letter and this one, always ended with asking when she was going to come visit. Phila intended to take Emmeryn out there to meet them one of these days, though that may yet prove a Herculean task.  
  
"They want to make you proud," Phila finally summed up. "And when you're growing, especially at Chrom's age, it feels like it's impossible to do with someone trying to watch over you at every step. Not that you don't appreciate it, of course— but being young and stupid, you can't quite say it. And I think that Lissa wants to be like you, and help people the way you do, but she can't do that from the castle, either. Almost-eleven is that age when the world has opened itself up, but everyone is telling you you're too young to see what it holds. It's frustrating, and with good reason."  
  
Emmeryn had never thought of it that way. She was quiet, feeling Phila play with her hair and allowing herself to be held, just for the minutes before she had to rise and dress and be the Exalt. It felt a little selfish to want her siblings to stay young forever, just so she could keep them safe, much as she feared what may happen when they did eventually grow up.  
  
Emm took a breath, inhaling morning air that held the lingering scent of their candle in addition to the mixture of fresh straw and clean animal fur that Emmeryn had come to associate with Phila. Even years after their wedding, when by all accounts she should've been used to it, Emm still caught hints of the mixture now and again. (This was one of those things that'd sound gross to anyone else, thus why it was one of those things that Emm kept safely away for her and only her to think about.) It was a very familiar scent, and a comforting one, as it had been since the beginnings of their friendship. Just what Emm needed to clear her head.  
  
"We should get dressed," she decided, sitting up and combing her fingers through her tousled hair. The dark purple love bites Phila had left on her stung, but not enough to deter her from pushing the bedcovers aside and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling her nightgown back over her chest. "I have work to do. Especially since _someone_ insisted I stop early last night." She shot Phila a pointed glance at that.  
  
Phila chuckled, reaching out and tracing her jaw with her fingers. "Considering the amount of times you moaned into my mouth last night, I don't think you mind that much."  
  
"You're right, I don't," Emm admitted. "But it won't happen again for awhile if I can't get any work done because of you, melonhead. Breakfast is starting soon, and I think it's best to head down to the great hall before anyone starts to wonder where we are."  
  
"Or," Phila proposed, sliding next to her and setting a hand on her waist. "You could say you're not feeling well and we could do it all over again."  
  
It was a tempting offer. Tempting enough that Emm paused, sighed, and pressed a kiss to Phila's neck. When their lips met again, Emmeryn supposed there wasn't much harm in being selfish for just a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me lord for i have sinned


End file.
